Graeme Thomas: Who do I Complain to?

The introduction to the Stand Fringe programme reads like a French revolutionary slogan – Unity! Quality! Affordability! Like the values of the French Revolution, however, the Stand’s promotional material at first seems to be a veneer concealing unpleasant things.

Graeme Thomas bounds onto the stage in what would pass as a sizeable studio apartment in London, but up north is, charitably, a cloakroom. He is already sweaty and breathless, appears unable to speak without nodding. The first few minutes of his set go down stonily.

It’s when he turns to the audience – asking if any foreigners are in, the last refuge of the dying standup – that Thomas’ set lights up. His delivery may lack polish, but when it comes to interacting with a crowd he could mix it up with any Fringe performer. Turns out, the sweatiness and heavy breathing are because he only plays five-a-side twice a year. When he relaxes and gives the audience time to digest his best lines the originality in his material emerges.